Tremens Factus Sum Ego
by thepalehorsevictoria
Summary: Latin for "I am made to tremble," a confession long overdue brings an unexpected response. F!Hawke and Sebastian.
1. Chapter 1

"Why are you grinning like that?"

"Just watching the coil tighten, Choir Boy. At some point you won't be able to just _look_ at her."

"I'm _not_ looking at her."

"Uh huh."

The mage chipped in. "Lying is a sin, Sebastian. You of all people."

His teeth gritted. "Maker's _breath_, I am not! Hawke is my friend and nothing more. I swore an oath to take no bride other than Andraste, and I would keep my word!"

"So you keep reminding us. Who are you kidding, man! We've seen this for years now."

"_Enough_, Varric!" The prince took off, picking up the pace as the dwarf chuckled. Anders shook his head and stared out into the sea below them as they kept trudging through the sand. When the pair finally caught up to Hawke, she was sorting through Tavarin Hall's merchandise and Sebastian had perched himself at the far end of the clearing with his back to them, fervently not looking at her while she shopped.

But when she cooed over a pair of boots and bent down to try them on, Anders and Varric watched Sebastian steal a glance out of his peripheral vision, his mouth parting slightly as her leather skirts revealed the back of her thighs. Varric smirked as he watched the prince turn to glare at Anders, who was unabashedly enjoying the same view.

* * *

><p>"That's it, off with your shirt."<p>

"How in the _blighted_ Void did you do that? That's four in a row now!" Hawke flung her cards across the table and lifted the garment up over her head. It was the wrong night to forego the breast band.

"I still think the deck's stacked against me. Merrill hasn't even lost her scarf yet and I know I'm the better player."

"Oh, maybe it's just a stroke of bad luck," Isabella mused as she twirled the thin shirt in the air. A knock came at the door to Varric's suite. "Speaking of stroking, and _luck_-"

"The Chantry would thank you for the medical supplies you donated, Isa-" Hawke whirled her head around to find Sebastian fiercely clutching the doorknob, bright blue eyes wide and fixed on her bare back and shoulders. "Oh, Maker," his eyes squinted shut as he spun around to face the wall. "I-shouldn't of come, I'll see you later." And the door slammed behind him.

Varric muttered under his breath and handed a sovereign over to Isabella, who was glowing with pride. "Not even over the threshold. Dammit, Rivaini."

Hawke's luck suddenly returned in the next rounds, and she managed to get back all her clothes and daggers.

* * *

><p>Warm lips nibbled at his earlobe before trailing down the side of his neck and onto the top of his shoulder. Goosebumps followed their path down his drawing arm to his calloused fingers and back up to his chest, and a small nibble on his pectoral made him gasp in delight.<p>

He brought his hands up to run through her short black hair and eased her face up to see her green eyes smoulder at him for a moment before she returned to her task. He purred lightly as he felt her tongue swirl around his navel and then her nose was buried in the copper curls right above his swelling pride. He would not, could not stop her-he yearned to feel her wet mouth around him, anticipating the hot, wet fire that would engulf him and swallow him. And when she did, all he could say was her name.

"Marian."

Bolting upright, Sebastian woke with a start and coughed on what felt like a long moan. He forced his eyes to focus, and once he established that he was still in his own bed in the Chantry dormitory, the tension in his shoulders eased a little.

But then he shivered from a breeze, and groaned as he realized he was sweating and his hand was wrapped around the base of a painfully strong erection.

_Not again._

He threw himself back into the bedding and tried to ignore his aroused state, but no sooner did he close his eyes did he see her there and feel her small hand over his, eager to claim his pleasure. Sebastian buried his face into the crook of his other arm, ashamed of what was to follow. In his mind's eye she watched him, helped him stroke himself to completion and moaned his name when he ascended, and licked him clean.

He strained to stay awake, afraid to dream of her again.

* * *

><p>Groaning in irritation, Sebastian tore the ruined parchment in half and crumpled the evidence of his mistake before throwing it to the other side of the room. Just as he was about to hurl the other piece, the door opened and the Grand Cleric of the Chantry of Kirkwall instinctively held her hands up-in surrender or to catch the ball, he wasn't sure.<p>

He had to be a frightening sight, he thought. The lack of sleep was taking its toll on his face and his temper, and now he couldn't even copy a page from a manuscript. "Forgive me, your Grace. I did not mean to alarm you." He sat up as straight as he could, and fought to calm himself.

"Sebastian, my child. Something vexes you. Something very grave." Elthina gently stepped towards him. Her soft gray eyes seemed to bore through him, and then he was slumped over the desk again, his face buried in his hands. He did not know he was shaking until her gentle hand smoothed over his hair. She searched for the right verse.

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost." Her voice was soothing, and Sebastian breathed deeply, taking solace in her recitation.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He was still focused on his breathing, but Elthina took his lack of immediate response as an affirmative. "I could hear your penance once the penitent go home."

Sebastian looked up at her and slowly nodded, his brow crinkled in pain and hope. He would have a few hours to compose his thoughts.

* * *

><p>"You look troubled, Sebastian."<p>

"Am I so easy to read these days, Fenris? I cannot tell you how many times people tell me this." And now he heard it from his closest friend.

"Then maybe you should heed them."

Instinctively, Sebastian ran a hand through his hair as he sighed at the elf, whose white bangs always fell to hide some of his green eyes. Her eyes are greener, even more than the grass in Starkhaven.

"I think you're right." He nodded politely to a pair of city guards as they patrolled past the Lowtown alley. "Elthina's offered to hear my confession this evening. I should have asked for it sooner. Perhaps you should-"

"Take care of yourself first, friend. Try to convert me later. And after you've gotten some sleep," Fenris smirked. He knew him too well sometimes.

"... Aye."

From a distance, the Chantry bell tolled, marking the hour. Sebastian took a deep breath and headed back to Hightown, walking right past the door and the two rogues behind it. When they heard his Starkhaven brogue, they held their breath and listened, watching for Fenris and him to pass.

"Ooh, Varric," Isabella purred, "let's do something _fun_."


	2. Chapter 2

Marian Hawke couldn't decide what angered her more - the memory of Sister Petrice and Ketojan, or the fact that Varric had to bring it all up again. She paced the floor of her study and cursed her temptation to take the dwarf up on the plan. "It's so simple it just might work."

"That's the beauty of it, Hawke! No big show of swords and staves. I gave an initiate a few coins for her robes, all you have to do is follow her around a little, sneak into her quarters and get every piece of potentially incriminating or lucrative paper you can and stuff it into your robes." Varric templed his fingers in front of his lips to hide his smirk.

It didn't take much to convince Hawke to do something like this. She loved subterfuge and stalking, often running out ahead of everyone in the party to sneak up on a threatening foe and striking them down with her daggers.

And she fell for it, hook, line and sinker. "Right, then. Tonight?"

Varric nodded. "She's hearing clergy confessions."

Hawke took up the robes he brought with him and went up to her room to change. Varric got up from the chair and fetched a few pieces of bacon from the kitchen to bait Homer into doing a few tricks. But the mabari was too smart for him, and simply took the meat straight out of Varric's hand.

"_Good_ dog. You don't fall for just _any_ ploy, do you." He chuckled.

* * *

><p>"Andraste's flaming <em>ass<em>, Varric. Couldn't you have bribed a sister with more meat on her bones?" Marian fidgeted and pulled at the large golden sun clinging to her chest. "I can barely fit a dagger in here, let alone Petrice's papers."

"I'm sure you'll manage, Hawke. And it's not like you'll be there for long, right?" The dwarf strained to keep a straight face.

"I'm serious, Varric. This thing is skintight. Maybe you should go after Petrice. Slug her over the head and kick her a few times. I'll just make sure no one misses her at confession."

"Oh, fine. Just don't tell Rivaini-she'll want to bend you over a pew for _holy communion_ if she heard how tight those robes are on you." The dwarf wanted to cackle when he imagined how Sebastian would react.

They had no trouble getting into the Chantry, and the rogues hugged the walls as they made their way towards the confession booths. Hawke held her breath as she saw a sister with light hair walk towards the middle booth, but could not see her face from the angle.

Varric cupped his hands over his mouth, and a lazy cat's meow echoed through the Chantry from the other side of the room. He hadn't thrown his voice in a while, and silently beamed as it caught the clergywoman's attention. He meowed again, and the sister walked away. Hawke turned to him, raising a curious black eyebrow.

"What? It came in handy, didn't it?" Smiling, Varric nudged her towards the booths before he tiptoed after the chantry sister, throwing meows as he went. Hawke took a deep breath and pulled the hood of the robe over her hair before she walked out of the shadows.

Hawke opened the door to the booth and slipped inside, her heart beating wild with adrenaline. The wood of the bench creaked as she sat to wait. Varric was supposed to meow and bark when it was safe for them to leave. Now all she had to do was hope that no one had anything to confess.

But then the curtain of the booth next to her swished open, and her heart slingshot into her throat when she heard that voice. She could recognize it anywhere.

"O Maker, hear my cry. I have sinned in Your sight, and ask that I be forgiven my transgressions."

* * *

><p>Sebastian had never been this eager for confession, but he needed the sacrament to help him purge the burning desires within. So he could barely wait for Elthina to settle down in the booth before he marched up to the side and wrenched the curtain open. He knelt immediately, clasping his hands together in fervent prayer, knuckles white with tension.<p>

A timid whisper came from the other side. "Speak, child. The Maker will hear your confession and your soul will once again be clean in His sight." The quiet, gentle tones almost felt like Andraste herself was listening, and it comforted him enough to continue.

"Maker, I burn with lust and impure thoughts for a woman!" Sebastian ran out of breath from the weight of the confession.

Hawke's shoulders tensed. "Lust?" Hawke's hands started to shake. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't hear these most private things but she could not bring herself to leave lest she lose her cover and risk Varric's task. And sweet Andraste, she wanted to stay and hear him.

The floodgates had opened. "Maker, my days and nights are haunted with her beauty and I see her, hear her everywhere I go. And these thoughts are wicked and I am damned to the Void but I cannot contain myself further!" Beads of sweat formed at his hairline as he closed his eyes and saw her there, felt her hands on his chest.

The chantry robes were very tight on Hawke's frame, and she was getting short of breath and the booth was stifling. She could get away with unbuttoning it a little, before she fainted. Then there'd be no way out.

And she wanted to hear more.

"I cannot walk without hoping to see her. I cannot sleep without wanting her body warm and writhing under mine. I cannot work without imagining my hands around her waist, in her hair, stroking her curls. I cannot eat without wanting to taste her. So many nights spent longing and burning and crying out to feel her around me."

On the other side of the screen, Hawke tried to fan herself, but to no avail. Even the slightest movement made the wood creak, and simply fanning with her hands did little to cool her down.

She found herself reaching into the opening in her robes and fondling her nipple. Maker, this would be the only time tonight that she'd appreciate the fit of the robes keeping her from wearing a breast band.

Sebastian writhed in a delicious agony, both freeing and damning. "I burn for her. I can't even shoot an arrow without . . ." He took a long breath. He had to confess to this grievous sin in order to be forgiven. "Without seeing myself come inside her."

Trying hard not to pant, Hawke braced her legs against the door across from her and slipped her other hand under her smallclothes and over her clitoris. She felt like she too was burning. And yet, her treacherous id pushed the words out of her mouth. "Is there more to confess?"

Sebastian's brow crinkled. "I . . . I am helpless against her, and I turn to You, O Maker, in my darkest hour and seek the grace of Your Light."

Maker, she needed more! Hawke fought to keep herself quiet and managed to eke out a whisper, "You must purge yourself of this fire, child."

"I have lain awake each night praying that I might be rid of this plague, that this demon would be excised from my eternal soul. But the only thing that even dulls the fire is to give in, and seek physical release as I see her there before me."

Hawke's eyes fluttered in her wanton state, and imagined his firm grasp around his pride, stroking hard bronzed flesh until he shook with a powerful orgasm. She stroked and pinched herself as she saw him thrusting into her wet folds with the same passion she heard in his voice, and she lost whatever was left of her self-control, moaning loudly in her ascension.

She froze when she heard his breath hitch.

"Oh, Maker." There was no recovery. Sitting up straight on the bench-wood creaking and all-and furiously buttoning up her robe, she found herself trying to whisper one more time. "Go forth and sin no more." She was doomed, and her face burned red in embarassment and shame. Varric was on his own now, she was doomed.

The door opened from the outside, and Hawke jumped to her feet.

"_Hawke?_" His accent was even stronger in his surprise. She had been there, listening all along.

"I can explain." No, she couldn't. She was visibly flushed and short of breath with beads of sweat at her hairline. Any red-blooded man alive could tell what she just went through.

Sebastian still had a firm grip on the door, his bright blue eyes fixated on the sun - the Maker's sun - on her chest, rising and falling with Hawke's shallow breaths. And the robes left nothing to the imagination for her curves, those curves he had seen and watched and yearned to touch.

Hawke was no Chantry sister, but he was sure he could make her sing praises and work for the absolution of their sins.

Without a word, he stepped into the booth, slamming the door behind him.

"Sebastian! I can explain!"

"I would hear your confession, Marian." Sebastian grabbed two handfuls of her robes and tore them apart, sending the buttons bounding onto the stone floor.

Varric saw the door slam behind the prince, and chuckled as he left the Chantry.


	3. Chapter 3

The booth was even smaller with the two of them inside.

Hawke gasped at his brash action. He had ripped the robe open, exposing her breasts and flushed chest to him, and despite the warm air, her coral nipples were hard from desire and chafe. Sebastian immediately pinched one in between his rough fingers and the pain and pleasure raced through her.

"Speak, child. I will hear your confession." His jaw was clenched, his nostrils were flared, and he would not tear his eyes away from her. Hawke felt like he meant to burn her alive.

"It was Varric's ide-_ah_." He pinched her again. "For Sister Petr-_ow!_" She glared at him. "What will you have me say?"

"Confess. Your sin. The one that's left you so riled and heated." Sebastian moved to her other breast, kneading the soft pale skin this time. "Then we'll see if your soul will wash clean."

Hawke couldn't help but nibble on her bottom lip at his touch, understanding. A small smirk crept up her lips. "I confess to impure, lustful thoughts." Sebastian's warm hand moved and she found herself whirled around and pressed firmly against the wall. "For a man I know I cannot have."

"What thoughts are these, lamb? You cannot receive absolution without complete confession." He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her hips towards him to arch her back while his other hand grabbed her breast again. "What did you do with them?" More buttons fell to the floor as he pulled at her robes. Hawke could feel his arousal crushing into her backside through his clothes. At least there was no armor.

His voice was rumbling low in her ear, but she could still hear him tearing the lace away from her. The low groan in his throat confirmed that he discovered that they were soaked through. Hawke gasped when Sebastian's calloused fingers ran along the inside of her thighs achingly close to her sex, moving against the rhythm his other hand kept at on her stiff nipple.

"I want him. No, I _need_ him to find me soaking wet and thrust himself into me. I have to have him fuck me with no abandon." She lost the will to continue, completely wrapped up in the sensation of Sebastian pressed against her and making her quiver in both of his hands. Closing her eyes, she wallowed in the joy.

She took too long. Just as he was about to stroke a finger across her clitoris, he let go, and when Hawke made to turn around Sebastian wrenched the robes away from her backside with one hand and his other came down hard against her bare skin. Hawke gasped in surprise, turning her head to look over her shoulder at him.

And that made him smack her ass again, and again. Sebastian was almost infuriated with her insistent attempts to look at him, and the sight of her disheveled and sweating was nothing like he had dreamed of. Marian of his Dreams was there for the taking - and so was Marian Hawke now - but the way she still resisted made it all the more arousing. She was a fighter, of course she would fight.

But there was something in him that drove him to bend her to his will. Sebastian wanted to wear her out.

"Him?" he scowled. "Out with it, Marian. Or this will be a very long confession." He made to strike her again, but then he paused, realizing that this was what she was aiming for.

Clever minx. He would find another way.

Sebastian backed away from her and undid the clasps of his long jerkin. "Kneel." As she quickly took to the wooden bench, he uncinched his heavy belt and pulled his erection out of his trousers and braies. There wasn't enough room to fully undress - and there was no reason for him to.

Hawke was on her knees, but was still turned to face him, her mouth hung open captivated by his girth and length. And his cock bobbed as he grunted with his disapproval.

He was tempted to fill her mouth and throat right there, and watch and feel her gag and struggle to take him. But she would want that - he watched her lick her lips in anticipation. "Kneel and lean forward." As she complied, he pulled her wrists behind her to the small of her back and wrapped his belt around them, cinching it tightly.

Hawke's breasts pressed painfully against the wooden bench when she lost the use of her arms to brace herself. But she knew the moment she told him to stop, he would, and this would be the end of all that could have come. She felt like she was losing control, and she relished in the anticipation as she felt Sebastian push her knees further apart. Any tinge of pain was temporary, but this dark, smouldering pleasure burned through her skin. She smiled.

At long last, his calloused fingers went back to her soaking sex, strumming her clitoris and delving into her. She fought hard to repress a moan, but failed.

Sebastian pushed her robes up around her waist, tucking them under her bound wrists to hold the cloth there. "How many men do you yearn for, Marian?" He stopped to marvel at his rough copper hands against the gleaming pale skin of her backside, still glowing pink from his earlier blows.

A cacophanous chord of guilt and regret sang through him for a moment. What was he doing to her, and why hadn't she hit him and run by now? He would find her a salve later when he made his apologies.

His reassurance came in her voice and the words she spoke. "No others. Just you." He could not fight the smirk that crawled up his lips, and his erection started to ache for her. With one hand on the small of her back he removed his drenched fingers from her and closed his eyes as he sucked one of them clean, relishing the taste of her. Sebastian wiped the others off on his cock and pressed his tip lightly against her wet folds, earning a loud moan from her and she arched her back to get closer to him.

"I cannot grant you absolution, Marian, unless you confess."

"I've dreamed of riding you on top of Varric's table after you lost to me at cards." Hawke's words were cut short as Sebastian entered her, a delicious sensation but aggravating all the same when he paused.

"_Confess_."

"I can't help but stroke myself," and she could feel him fill her a little more. "when I'm in a dark alley and can't help but think of you pinning me against the wall and pressing into me." She gasped as he punctuated her words with another inch. "And," she paused to relish in the white hot sensation of him inside her.

"And?" Sebastian pulled out a fraction, threatening to leave her warmth, as much as it would pain him to do so.

Hawke bolted up and turned to him, almost pouting, and braced herself for what she thought he would do. She was ready for him to grab her by the hair and slam her down onto the bench again. But Sebastian surprised her by reaching for her neck and pulling her into a strong kiss salted with their sweat. The heat of their mouths, their tongues and their union felt like they were engulfed in flames.

The twist in Hawke's back began to ache, and Hawke broke away from the kiss first when she was out of breath. Panting, she looked up into Sebastian's eyes, expecting them to be dark with lust and fury. When she saw the bright blue irises almost swimming in his desire, she had to pause.

"And I love you."

Sebastian looked away and blinked as he feared the spell would break.

But it didn't. Hawke's pale skin glowed in a sheen of sweat and she had writhed under him with her hands tied and her most tender parts exposed to him and he thought that once he consumed her body he would be rid of this fever, but it was her eyes that seared him when he looked back at her.

He had to kiss her again until his body rebelled against his pause, his erection still strong within her, but barely contained. The firestorm flared up again and his hand flew down to her senstive pearl, feeling her tremble against him. It was too much - he eased her down onto the bench again so he could continue pressing further into her sheath while keeping his hand firmly buried in her soft wet curls.

Hawke was squirming for more, and the words finally came to her.

"I love feeling you on me, around me, against me, _in me_," she smiled as Sebastian groaned and sank further in. "I love watching you boil and burn as you watch me do the same." A hand pressed into her hip as he slowly pulled back. "And I love watching you hit your target with such deadly precision, praying that you'd do the same to me."

Sebastian sank into her to the hilt, moaning at the tight warmth around him and then the shudders he felt as Hawke drank in the feeling of his cock fully inside her. He stayed there for a moment, listening to her mewl in the sensation, and then started a slow, languid pace that soon sent streams of sweat down his chest and back.

Hawke squeezed her eyes shut in the exquistive pleasure of him thrusting against her most intimate parts, even as she discovered new ones that he filled so well. She whimpered lightly when he moved his hand from her clitoris to her hips, but her lamentation ceased when he pushed her hips down and ground against her silken walls with incredible friction.

Sebastian's patience was wearing thin and he could tell that she was not far behind, and after a few faster thrusts he heeded Hawke's sighs and groans and let the fire take over, driving him to nearly slam into her. Hawke's whimpers turned into pants and as her back arched in her final moments he leaned over her to whisper into her ear.

"Come, my love, and take your absolution!"

She came then, singing his name in a faithful prayer and she trembled around him. Her spasms soon proved too great for him to stand, and with great reluctance he wrenched himself from her and grasped the tip of his cock, ending in a powerful stroke. He almost yelled her name as his boiling hot ejaculation poured onto her backside, and the prince had to ease himself onto the floor and lean against the wall.

Hawke stayed knelt on the bench as she caught her breath, gnawing at her bottom lip in her elation. She made short work of the belt around her wrists, and turned around to sit on the floor and watch Sebastian gasp for air.

When he opened his eyes, Hawke had her knees up to her chin and her head tilted to one side, almost childlike in her mirth except for the glistening curls exposed below. "You're the most incredible woman I've ever met, sweetling."

She didn't say anything, and she didn't need to. Her smile and her eyes spoke volumes.

Sebastian reached for her cheek and kissed her soundly, but the moment broke when she failed to stifle a chuckle.

"What?"

She had to turn away as her shoulders shook in laughter. It was a beautiful sight.

"What is it?"

"Don't hit me."

"Marian, about that, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be . . . that's not it . . . " she was still chuckling, and she relented to his stare. "So when will I be clean in His sight?"

Sebastian groaned and narrowed his eyes at her. But he couldn't stay angry at those eyes for long, and finally sighed with a small grin as he got up and rearranged his clothing. Hawke followed suit, but frowned as she noted that her robes wouldn't close.

"Ah, take my jerkin," he offered, draping it around her shoulders. "I won't be too long getting my things, this should be enough to get us home."

"Us? Home?" She looked up at him, confused, seeking answers in his bright blue eyes.

He smiled and took her cheek in his palm. "Aye, lass. I won't be able to take confessions here without remembering this," he smiled. "My days at the Chantry are over." Sebastian kissed her then. But he could not resist. "Think Varric would let us use of his dining table?"

Hawke narrowed her eyes and made to punch him in the shoulder, but he dodged swung her around into a tight embrace. And she was rewarded with a sharp gasp as she nibbled his earlobe, whispering, "Should I steal another set of robes?"

* * *

><p><strong>Original prompt:<strong> _Poor Seb is in deep self-denial whenever anyone teases him about having feelings for F!Hawke. But when the dreams/fantasies start being far too much, Elthina (seeing only that he's troubled) offers him a confession in strict confidence after the Chantry closes in the evening. _

_Isabela/Varric arranges for Hawke to swap places with the Grand Cleric. Hawke *really* likes what she hears and strokes herself to climax while listening and giving advice. Sebastian finally finds out in the end, but the Chantry sister costume pushes his final button and sexy "show me all the nasty things you've come to confess, sister" roleplay ensues._


End file.
